


Time will tell, I suppose, or at least, these pages will.

by lets_get_messi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Barman Niall is that classified as a kink? WELL IT SHOULD BE, Diary/Journal, Fate, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Soulmates - kinda, Strangers, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lets_get_messi/pseuds/lets_get_messi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a diary and he's been writing about the pen-pal he's never met in there since he's been 12 years old. One day he reads his diary out to a room full of strangers and finds that the man with the blue-eyes at the back of the room is a slight distraction.</p><p>(Or Harry goes to a public diary reading thing at his local coffee shop and gets more than he bargained for)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time will tell, I suppose, or at least, these pages will.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an idea I saw about this documentary thing called "Mortified" where people legit read out their diaries. it's pretty interesting stuff check it out here > http://mortifiednation.com/

The Hideout was Harry's favourite coffee shop since moving away from the café he was used to back in Holmes Chapel. The Hideout was different to the old café run by Margaret though, the place where the frail old lady in the flour stained apron would sneak him cream cakes whilst the younger baristas made the coffee. No, Margaret's café tasted like home. Harry supposed that was one of the reasons he loved The Hideout so much. It was different. It wasn't so much a coffee house as it was a student hive, buzzing with those who attended the Uni just two blocks away. It was a hipster joint, the walls rustic and bare brick with scattered macro photographs of coffee beans and mugs hanging up.

Mug shots, Harry laughed internally the first time he'd seen them. He also liked The Hideout because it's where he met Niall, a blonde haired Irish boy with a tongue that spewed nonsense at one hundred miles an hour and a smile that could dazzle the pants off just about anyone. Niall was one of the baristas that worked the place and by night he was a bar man, when the coffee shop dimmed the lights and turned up the music to keep the punters as happy as students surrounded by cheap booze. No, Harry liked The Hideout which is probably why he paid a little too much interest to the flyer left on one of the tables in his lecture. 

“Mortified.” Harry read, brow knitted together at the leaflet. It was simple enough, a photo of a microphone and a blurred audience with 8pm and The Hideout's address dated for the next Saturday. Harry nudged Niall, his friend glancing over at him and nodding out some form of 'you have my attention, mate' “What's Mortified?”

“Oh it's this thing. Like The Hideout is rammed with Hipsters and we tend to do some stuff like a Poetry reading night here or a Jack Kerouac appreciation night or what the fuck ever.” Harry rolled his eyes at that. He quite liked Kerouac, but he found On The Road to be quite monotonous- He broke from his reverie by Niall giving him that look from beneath a raised brow. “Your Inner hipster monologue is deafening me right now. But anyway, yeah this Mortified thing is where a bunch of hipster's gather around and read out extracts from their own diaries. It was pretty funny last month. Was a laugh, everyone was in a good mood, even the one's totally embarrassed. Guess some people like to admit to their past before they can move on kind of thing. Fuck if I know, or care.” Niall snorted.

“Diary reading?” Harry asked thumbing at the dog-eared corner of the leaflet as he gnawed his bottom lip, thoughts surrounding the tattered leather bound journal stuffed in a shoebox beneath his bed back at the Halls. “Hey, reckon you can sign me up?” He asked, glancing at Niall who was jotting down something in note form in his open book, eyes on the board at the front of the class but he was pouting a nod at Harry who smiled. 

“Yeah man, thought you'd be up for it. You keep a diary then?” Niall asked with a raised eyebrow, Harry dismissing him with a shake of the head.

“I used to.”

“Ah sweet, yeah man. Cool. I'll text you your time slot and that and you can just meet me at The Hideout, I've got 3 till close so I'll be there all night.” Niall said pulling out his phone and no-doubt setting himself a reminder. Harry smiled at that, throwing a brief look towards the leaflet before slipping it into his pocket.

“Sweet, cool man.”

~*~

The coffee house was buzzing, the lights on low and the music on quietly in the corner where an impromptu stage had been made with the leather couches pushed towards the walls and a few lines of chairs directing towards the microphone. Harry clutched tighter at his book, feeling the familiar weight of it beneath his fingers and wondering if this was a good idea or not. He wasn't on first, but Niall said he was on third and Harry didn't know if that was still too soon in the line-up to be comfortable. Before he could say much he heard a familiar greeting and meandered through the groups of students to lean over the bar and clap his hand with Niall's who was smiling widely.

“Here he is, and with book in hand. My, my Styles you are prepared.” Niall winked and Harry rolled his eyes almost naturally.

“You know me.” Harry tapped on the sticky surface of the bar, the scent of coffee was still thick in the atmosphere but it didn't smell the same as it did in the day. Harry supposed it had something to do with the bass that rattled the glassware behind Niall as the aroma of coffee was lost under weak beer and strong sambucca.

“What'll it be, I'll buy. Still owe you from a few weeks back.” Niall said throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards the fridge, Harry pouting as he scanned the shelves to make his choice. 

“I'll have a Bulmer's mate.”

“Nice one, coming up.” Harry waited a few moments before Niall passed him over his bottle and all but shooed him to the quieter side of the bar.

Harry didn't mind standing and drinking quietly as Niall served. Harry didn't mind being alone if anything it settled his nerves a little. Harry wasn't a nervous guy but he still felt like he was about to split himself open and let everyone in the room have a look. It was daunting more than it was nerve-wrecking and it seemed somehow fitting for his mental state when a red-haired girl moved out the way in front of him and his eyes fell onto a young man on the other end of the bar furthest away from the stage.

Harry's breath hitched and his heart shuddered like an annoying reaction that a teenage girl would most likely be accustomed too. But not Harry. Yet here he was, blindly placing his empty glass bottle to the side of him and keeping his gaze fixated on the small man who's smile was as contagious as his arse looked edible. 

Lord. 

The lights dimmed and everyone turned their gazes towards the stage where there was a spotlight illuminating Niall's boss who welcomed everyone. But Harry wasn't really paying attention, nor did he really pay attention as a blonde pixie looking girl took to the stage to talk about how much she loved My Little Pony or whatever. Because the guy at the other end of the bar was smiling as he drank with his friends, eyes twinkling with the lights of the stage and was taking Harry's breath away in the process. 

Harry knew he was staring now, presumably with heart eyes and a lazy smile as he watched the guy with the piercing eyes chat animatedly amongst the small group at the bar. He had an aura about him, one that was still palpable in the busy room, one that seemed to radiate off him and affect those around him as some good-looking brooding guy threw an arm across blue-eyes small shoulders. 

Harry was halfway through an inner montage of the two of them cutting through their eight-tier wedding cake when he felt a wet towel slap against his chest. He turned an annoyed glare on Niall who gestured towards the stage which was empty bar the microphone and stool sat beneath a blearing spotlight and fuck. When did the second person finish? Jesus, when did they even start?

Harry suddenly felt his palms sweating as he gave a brief nod at Niall who was wiping down the bar with a shit-eating grin that made Harry feel several shades of uncomfortable. He made his way passed those clapping in their seats and up the step until he was stood in front of the mic, adjusting the height so he could speak into it comfortably. 

Of course it stuttered downwards clumsily, causing a hushed laughter to erupt form those watching and when Harry grunted awkwardly he let his eyes flit to the bar to see that blue-eyes and his friends were now watching. He had some little smile on his face and Harry thought his eyes felt hotter than the light shining down on him.

“Well something awkward like that was gonna happen to someone tonight. Not surprisin' it was me.” Harry said as he finally got the microphone to an appropriate level. He held tighter at his old diary raising it in the air as though to remind everyone what he was doing up there. As though to remind himself that perhaps this whole thing could actually work as some kind of psychological bullshit. So he could get closure on the past and move the fuck on with his life. Just like Niall said this shit was made for. “I'm Harry and I'm gonna read a few extracts from my diary starting from when I was twelve up to twenty one, because I clearly have some kind of fucked up humiliation kink or somethin'.” He joked, expecting the silence that settled over the crowd. All but one quiet because from the bar he heard an ugly bark of a laugh before blue-eyes clapped his hand over his mouth, his brooding friend laughing at his expense. 

Harry smirked at that.

“Right well erm. Here it goes.” He cleared his throat, steadying his breathing as he looked down at the familiar messy scrawl of his own words. It comforted him in some weird way he supposed. He smiled tightly and weirdly enough didn't feel afraid any more.

“March 2006. 12 years old.  
Dear Diary, no-one notices me at school. Well some people do, like that dick-head Aiden and his friends who call me spotty and laugh at my curly hair. That knob-head. I wish I could punch his stupid quiff right off his fat-head.” He smirked as the crowd laughed, his eyes drifting to see if blue-eyes was laughing and trying not to feel too cocky to find that he was, a bright smile lighting up his sun-kissed skin. Harry cleared his throat again. 

“I got my first letter from my pen-pal today in English. We're doing some stupid scheme thing where we are writing to another secondary school in the country. It's dumb but whatever. My penpal's name is Louis.” Harry swallowed thickly scanning the crowd to see everyone looking back at him awaiting the rest of his story. “He seems cool. Can barely understand his shitty handwriting but he has a Doncaster Rovers notepad. Their crest is in the corner of the page and it's nice. I like football. Just not Doncaster but whatever. He probably thinks I'm just as weird for using pink paper. I'm never borrowing any of Gemma's notebooks ever again.” He said and flicked a few pages ahead as another group of people laughed, clapping his first extract. He felt more confident as he lifted the book up to read from, proud of himself that his hand wasn't shaking any more. 

“June 2008. Fourteen years old.  
Dear Diary, Louis gave me his MSN addy today.” He heard Niall laugh out a nostalgic cackle from the bar, Harry looking up at him and letting out an exaggerated cheer down the mic that had the room laughing again. Blue-eyes wasn't laughing though, he was staring at Harry with an unreadable expression. Even his brooding friend was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Harry ignored that, too absorbed in what he was doing too dependant on it now. 

“I wanted to go on webcam and see him, we've been talking for years but he said he didn't have a cam. How shit. I've tried to imagine what he looks like. I reckon he is skinny, maybe with dark hair, brown eyes. Maybe blue eyes.” He looked back over to the bar and blue-eyes was looking back. Harry winked and the stranger with the piercing gaze swallowed thickly. “I got carried away last night thinking about Louis. Thinking about how he looks, how his voice might sound. I don't know how but it made me hard.” He felt his cheeks blush as a few cat-calls came from those around the bar. “So I had a wank. I jizzed saying Louis' name and it's strange because he's a boy and that's all I really know about him aside from his family life, his favourite TV shows and how much he hates Nick from the year above him at school. Am I gay?” Harry finished his extract, the audience clapping and hollaring and Harry smiled as he turned a few more pages, no-one seemed bored thankfully.

“October 2012. Eighteen years old.  
Dear Diary, I am most certainly gay.” He said and the audience cheered good-naturedly. “Like dick-slapping, tea-bagging, flavoured-lube-eating, arsehole-appreciating, deep-throating gay. And I'm in love with my boyfriend.” The audience clapped again and Harry's face fell, heart hammering as he read the next line out, voice cracking a little. Remembering. “I think... He's nice, tall, handsome, treats me right. But he's not enough. There feels like a void inside me, like I haven't quite managed to figure something out. It's like not knowing the answer to a riddle when everyone around you says they understand it. It's like an itch that sticks around all day and doesn't feel relief when I scratch it. Just gets worse. I think I know what the void is.” 

“Louis asked me to meet him today. Text me and said he was driving through Holmes Chapel visiting family. I couldn't do it. I was scared. Scared he wouldn't live up to my expectations and I'd feel like I wasted all these years. Or maybe he'd be everything I ever thought he'd be and more. Maybe he'd be as beautiful, as softly-spoken as I dreamed of, maybe his body would fit mine better than my boyfriend's does, maybe his kiss would be sweeter. What if he was perfect and ruined everything?” Harry ignored the lump in his throat that threatened to block his words. “This is fuckin' insane. I'm eighteen and still writing in a diary because I can't tell anyone else about Louis. Can't get my feelings out otherwise. Fuckin' Louis. Louis who won't add me on facebook or call me. Or text me a picture of himself and refuse to accept one of me. He said it's because he doesn't want to shatter the illusion. But I feel that's all our friendship is. A warped and crazy illusion that has me in some kind of half-nelson. And yet he wanted to meet me.” Niall was looking at him with a smile that seemed proud despite it's sadness and Harry liked how that was all the confidence he needed really.

He dared a glance towards blue eyes, perhaps feeling too cocky. He was muttering something to brooding stranger who's expression seemed surprised or disbelieving. But blue eyes were still on him. Perhaps still listening. 

“I keep this diary in hopes that I'll meet Louis one day and will show him. Show him, that through the boyfriends and the late nights spent drinking and awkwardly growing into my long limbs that he was always there. That every letter he sent and every e-mail he wrote has been saved. Kept in my own little secret bubble of Louisisms. That I have six shoe boxes full of the letters and parcels he sent me safe under my bed, that my hotmail has 7,000 messages and my phone can't store more than 5 texts due to the amount I have saved in my inbox. That one day I can finally show him that I fell in love with a boy I never met. That it feels more real than when I hold my boyfriend's hand. That it feels more right when I send him kisses goodnight over text then to roll over and kiss my boyfriend who's lying beside me.” He turned the pages and the claps seemed slower, thick with sadness and Harry gave a tight lipped smile towards the crowd who were merely dark figures with the brightness of the light in his face. 

It felt strange to be talking about Louis after so many years of keeping the idea of him hidden like a sordid little secret. Now he was slicing open everything of theirs and throwing it to a crowd of strangers to feast upon and it felt more real than it ever had and that was all the incentive Harry needed to take a deep breath and read his final extract.

“May 2015. 21 years old.  
Dear Diary. I'm 21 and going to University in Manchester.” He said, exaggerating the final word and earning a cheer from everyone in the room at the mention of their shared University. He soon settled back into seriousness as he read on, the rest of the café hanging on his every word. He could feel it.

“I got my unconditional offer today. Pretty scary stuff but I reckon I'll be fine. My Mum is well proud, baked a cake and everything. I helped, obviously. I told Louis I got into Uni today. Didn't tell him which one. I'm beginning to think that there's no point. Perhaps we're always destined to be two strangers on opposite sides of a piece of paper. We'll always be connected by the ink that seeps into our skin but we'll never see one another. Just be safe in the knowledge that we were there once. And I'm ok with that.” Harry smiled mournfully as the words in the diary blurred and his nose tingled with the warning of tears. He took a deep breath, much too aware the room could probably see the glossy sheen to his eyes, twinkling underneath the brightness of the lamp above him. 

“Which is why this is going to be my last entry. Perhaps I'll start another diary one day about another faceless name that sets my heart beating out the rhythm of a symphony and the butterflies in my tummy into a hurricane of flapping wings but until then I'm signing off.” His voice cracked and he heard someone from the front row make a patronizing bitter-sweet 'awh' it was laced with sincerity anyway. He coughed in hopes of getting through his final sentence without completely breaking down and staining the old pages with tears.

“Dear Diary, I'm 21 and Louis is still as present in my mind as when I was twelve and trying to decipher his messy writing in my English class on a scrappy page from a Doncaster Rovers notebook. Thank you.” Harry said stepping away from the microphone and bowing as the room cheered and applauded. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand as he jumped down from the stage, people touching his shoulder and muttering how brave he was as he passed them by with a smile.

He reached Niall who was smiling the brightest in the room.

“Haz, mate.”

“I know, soppy sentimental cunt, aren't I.” Harry laughed, taking a packet of cigarettes from his skinny jeans pockets and passing his diary to Niall to place under the counter alongside where he knew Niall's phone and I-pad were. 

“It was beautiful mate. Proud of ya.” Niall said with a wink, turning away quickly to complete an order as Harry made a gesture about going outside. He dared a glance towards the end of the bar and tried to hide his disappointment that blue-eyes and his friend's seemed to have disappeared. 

Maybe his diary didn't keep everyone entertained.

Harry pushed open the doors to the café, shuddering as a sharp evening breeze slapped him in the face as he struggled to light his cigarette with suddenly cold fingers.

“That shit was intense.” A voice called out from beside him and Harry startled nearly dropping his freshly lit fag all together. Blue eyes stared back at him. The boy was stood with a leg propped up against the wall, a shaking hand bringing up his cigarette to his mouth as he breathed it out into the cold air the enveloped them. Harry didn't want to stare. Tried to focus on anything other than the way the guy's thigh looked ready to burst out his tight jeans, or the way the curve of a tummy sat just where his shirt was tightest. But fuck, was he a fucking picture. Harry swallowed, somehow more nervous talking to this beautiful man than he had been the entire time he cut open his heart and shared his inner-most thoughts to a room full of strangers.

“Well I'm a go big or go home kind of guy.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, taking a drag and letting the sharpness fill his lungs.

“Right. That boyfriend you spoke about-” 

“Ex-boyfriend.” Harry interrupted looking back at blue-eyes who had pushed himself off the wall three steps closer to Harry who revelled in their height difference a little bit.

“Right.” His eyes were back on Harry, fingers pushing at the fringe sweeping his forehead as he nodded like he was desperate to say something. “Did you ever tell him? About Louis?” His voice was quiet, weak and Harry blamed the winter air.

“No-one knows about Louis other than the people in that room and you I suppose.” Harry said, feeling like a right fucking twat saying it out loud and to a fucking handsome bloke as well. Who probably had him pinned as some love-sick fool and nothing more.

“He sounds like a special guy.” His words were polite as he took another step towards Harry, brow furrowed and eyes spanning the length of him. Harry shuddered under the gaze, felt as though he was being inspected and all there was to do was to answer him.

“Yeah, he really was.” He said, wistfully almost. Truthfully.

“Why did you stop speaking to him?” The little guy swallowed, scuffing the tip of his shoe against the gravel beneath them, shoulders hunched over and breath coming out in silver puffs of cold air.

“Because I thought that's what he wanted.” Harry didn't know why he was whispering, why that felt more like a lie than it ever had done in his mind now that he was saying it out loud and to someone who could propose reason with a third party perspective. But it tasted like a lie, thick and unwanted on his tongue.

“You couldn't have possibly known that.” Little guy said, shaking his head and pouting in a slight grimace and Harry flinched at the anger laced in his tone.

“He told me he had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend we both tried to make it work and I guess we tried to let each other go.” He was trying to justify himself and for what? Some blue-eyed man who thought he was a coward and useless or whatever else? Harry owed this man nothing and just as he was about to shout as much, the blue-eyed stranger's shoulders slackened and he sighed, looking up at Harry with a genuine look of intrigue.

“The letting him go thing didn't work out so well did it?” He asked with a sympathetic light-hearted snort and Harry felt like that was progress as he took another long drag from his cigarette noticing blue-eyes had thrown his away half smoked.

“No. Seeing as I'm talking to hot strangers about him.”

“You think I'm hot?” His lips were a little smile now and from that look on him alone, Harry was back to mentally planning their wedding.

“Ridiculously. Can't you tell? I can barely look you in the eyes, man.” Harry admitted, blushing harder than he had on the stage even as the man in front of him laughed softly.

“Harry.” the stranger said and that gave Harry enough reason to meet his eye. “You're the most beautiful guy I've ever met.” Fuck. 

Why did that feel like a punch in the gut? Why did it leave something bitter-sweet in his mouth? Because those words felt so pure and just, but who the hell was this guy? Harry sucked in some cold air, enjoying the way it cut at his throat.

“You don't have to say that.” He said weakly and the shorter guy took another step closer.

“I know.” His smile was back, small and inviting and fuck he was warm and close and Harry didn't even mean to coil an arm around his small waist and press him that little bit closer but he did. And stranger-blue-eyes didn't even seem to mind as his delicate hands pressed open palmed at Harry's shoulders, little fingers teasing the curled strands of his hair. There was a silence that surrounded them for a few moments, Harry's heart beating up a storm in his chest and all he could think about were those soft looking lips and how they would taste

“You know, kissing you really would top off an awfully strange night.” Harry murmured.

“Kissing you would top off an awfully strange nine years.” Harry frowned slightly at the stranger's words, wondering if that was a little too deep to say to someone inches from your mouth but before he could comment, blue-eyes thread his dainty fingers into Harry's hair and guided their lips together. 

The kiss was soft, gentle and delicate in all the way the stranger seemed to be. He tasted of cigarettes and wine and Harry couldn't help but slide his hand's onto the guy's lower back and force him closer, tilting his head and probing his tongue against the other boy's. They stayed like that for a few moments, wrapped up in their own warm bubble, away from the cold and the embarrassment of the evening, away from thoughts of Louis-

“Louis!” 

Harry pulled away like it was his own name that had been called, or at the idea of someone attending the coffee house who was an actual real life mind-reader. However, instead of some Mystic Meg looking woman he saw brooding man, eyes on Harry who genuinely squeaked out a questionable noise of confusion.

“Give us a sec Zayn.” Blue-eyes, Louis, was saying as he nodded at his friend who turned with an unreadable expression before heading back into the coffee shop and leaving Harry staring after him with a gaping mouth and a sudden headache.

“Wow.” He said long and low as he just stared, mind taking a while to catch up with him. “Coincidence's are crazy right?”

“Harry.” Louis said and Harry couldn't help but drop his hands to his sides at the condescending tone that was so often used on other's tongues to break up with Harry or to let him down gently, despite the guy still carding his fingers through his hair Harry was very much prepared for the latter. 

Fuck Harry was confused. Or maybe just emotionally drained. Maybe he was horny. Or kinda drunk from necking that cider or- “It was me.”

“What was?” Harry asked dumbly.

“The guy in the letters.” A deep nervous breath and then “I'm Louis.” The world seemed to slow down and speed up all at once and after a few moments staring at teasingly familiar blue eyes, Harry pulled away to get a clear look at the guy before him.

“Are you making fun of me you fuckin' prick?!” Harry snapped, pushing the little guy's chest lightly because even through his anger he wasn't a complete arse. Though he may as well have punched him if Louis' sad expression was anything to go by.

“I'm literally just as fuckin' shocked as you are! I didn't exactly intend to find you either! Let alone stumble across you by chance declarin' your undying love for me!” He called out helplessly. Harry shook his head, tugging at the strands of his hair a little. 

This guy was fucking with him, using his admission in the bar as some kind of shiny fucking pokemon card at the end of a long winded battle. It was unfair and Harry felt sick down to his core.

“Just leave me alone ok? I did that shit in confidence. Back off!”

“Want me to prove it?” Louis snapped out, brows raised into his hairline and Harry stared at him as he shoved a hand in his skinny jeans pocket before launching his wallet at Harry's chest who fumbled to catch it. 

When he looked down at him, Louis' eyes were round and wet and he was stood with his arms folded, head inclining towards the wallet in his hands and suddenly Harry was too scared to look inside.

What if this was Louis? What if he had finally heard everything Harry had ever wanted to say, in the worst way possible? What if Louis wanted to take back the kiss because he didn't feel the same?

With shaking hands Harry undid the wallet, flicking it open and dropping it on the floor in the next second to turn away from him. His legs felt like jelly as he took three steps away, hands covering his face as he let his palms catch his tears, chest hitching up as he struggled to breath for a second, completely and utterly overwhelmed.

It was Louis. 

It fucking was. It was him. 

His Louis, his Doncaster Louis stood behind him with the taste of Harry still on his lips as a cut out square of tattered pink paper reading 'Sincerely, Harry' sat pushed inside the space in his wallet made for family photos or ID cards.

Fuck. 

Harry only cried harder as he felt two arms circle his waist from behind, two delicate hands scrunching up his shirt and when he heard a sniff against his back he turned instantly. He wrapped Louis up in a tight embrace, breathing him in. They stood there like that for a few moments, just crying against one another. They were beeped from a passing car, perhaps thinking they were beyond wrecked or even making out but Harry could barely hear anything over the strong wind and the thumping in his ears. 

Louis. 

Fucking Louis. 

He pulled away pressing a chaste kiss to Louis' mouth who returned it as eagerly, the pair pecking once, then twice and then a few times before pulling away and resting their foreheads together as their crying subsided leaving them staring at one another in awe. 

“I kept every word you've ever said to me.” Harry admitted, practically feeling the words he'd read a thousand times, pressing against his skin in the heat where Louis was touching him. Harry smiled as he said it, despite the tears that tracked his cheeks and turned his flesh pink. Louis lifted a thumb, swiping at Harry's face before cupping his jaw gently.

“I've got so much more to say, love.” And that sounded like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> This was super quick so i hope you enjoyed it :)  
> follow me on tumblr for more ~~☯✞ soft louis pictures ☯✞~~
> 
> doncasterlyrock.tumblr.com


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